


Waking Hours

by dotfic



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6328102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after The Force Awakens. Struggling with his injuries, Finn dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by janiedean.

Finn stood among tall stalks of grain, wind making them sway and rustle around him with a soft noise that was almost a hum. The stalks glowed from the sun that struck bright and hot on his face. His helmet was missing, but he was in his Stormtrooper uniform, with no idea what planet he was on or how he’d gotten there, and he was alone. 

“Rey?” He shouted, his own voice blending with the rustling of the tall plants and echoing back to him. “Poe?” Again, no answer.

He almost yelled for Han Solo, before remembering: _Han Solo is dead_. The thought left him feeling hollow and abandoned in a way he couldn’t remember feeling in a very long time. As if he had felt it, once, but wasn’t sure when or why, so it was both familiar and new. Mostly all he’d known, until recently, was training as a soldier for the First Order, and there wasn’t a whole lot of personal attachment involved in that—it was actively discouraged, in fact. Train, eat, sleep, repeat, all on a rushed schedule with little time to think (which of course was purposeful, Finn realized now. Independent thought wasn’t exactly beneficial to the goals of the First Order).

A sound came from the grass, a click, a tinny voice over a comm, “That’s him.” Finn turned, seeing only the tall golden stalks, reaching for his blaster before realizing he had none.

“FN-2187,” a voice said, this time from a another direction. Finn turned again, squinting in the sun towards the horizon where the grain fields ended in low red-tinged hills.

“Traitor,” another voice whispered.

Finn spun around and saw his old unit in an orderly row, watching him, expressionless in helmets but aggressive in their body language. 

Another trooper appeared, four red streaks marring his helmet. “Traitor,” it whispered again.

Tall stalks snapped against Finn’s armor as he ran, but he didn’t get very far before he heard the zip-flash of a weapon firing, and pain burned up his back.

* * *

The spires of a city rose in the distance, beyond the green canopy of a forest below. Finn was high on a hill, small dwellings nearby, sheltered beneath the trees, their walls blue as the sky and laced with vines. 

His back was a line of heat, bearable but ever-present pain. Finn headed along a path, wondering how he knew to go left and slightly down, how he knew that the path would curve after the massive tree with its low-hanging vines, that the woods would open up and he’d see a lake below, surface smooth and shining, reflecting the trees and buildings. 

Finn heard shouts, adults shouting, pleading, and children crying. 

Troopers, white armor gleaming under the sun, aimed their weapons at the townspeople, forcing them to lower their weapons.

One emerged from a small house with a struggling child held under his arm, skinny brown legs kicking, but his small boots barely even made a sound as they struck the armor. 

From inside the house came shouts, someone calling a name Finn couldn’t make out, and then the sound of blaster shots.

Finn’s heart raced as he stumbled forward. He could help, he could save the child, maybe whoever was inside the house too, maybe it wasn’t too late. Even though he had no weapon and he wasn’t even in his armor; he was a soldier, he could do something, he could help them. 

“Stop!” Finn shouted at the trooper holding the child, who was squirming and trying to punch at the armor.

The trooper ignored him as if he weren’t there.

As they went by, Finn locked gaze with the child, whose eyes were wide with fear, face smudged with dust and tears.

* * *

A searing heat raced up his spine. He heard an anxious beeping, and someone saying _come one, buddy, it’s going to be okay, hang in there_ and a calloused hand— _Poe_ —holding his. Then he felt a sharp sting in his arm and the pain in his back faded.

* * *

Finn stood on the banks of a river, the air smelling of the purple moss that lined its banks, muddy and rich. Some sort of creature called from the trees, almost like the cries of a small child. 

There was a narrow dirt path along the river. Finn followed it, ducking around the vines that hung low from the trees. An extra ripple formed in the water, and he caught a flash of a long, scaly body. 

“Finn!” Someone called him from not too far away.

He turned in a quick circle, searching. The voice called again.

“Rey?” He spotted her on the opposite bank. “Rey!”

Her fists were clenched as she leaned slightly forward. The water between them started to fill with dozens of long ripples and scaly bodies.

“Please come back to us,” Rey called across the river. “You have to get better.”

“I’m trying. I promise.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there right now.” Rey had to raise her voice as the rush of the water grew louder from the thrashing of the scaly creatures. “I’ll see you soon, Finn.”

Finn stepped off the path, to the edge of the river bank. The ground dropped sharply, muddy and sheer as a cliff. “Please don’t go.”

Rey’s face scrunched as if she were about to cry. She gestured frantically for him to move back onto the path. “I’ll be back. I swear to you Finn, I’ll come back to you.”

He believed her. 

The thrashing in the water slowed, then ceased. On the opposite bank, Rey had vanished, leaving only the hanging vines and purple moss, and the quiet lapping of the water.

* * *

“Hey, hotshot. Dance with me!”

“What?” Finn startled.

“Dance with me.” Poe was in his dress uniform, emerging suddenly from the celebration all around.

Cooking fires dotted the tarmac, and the chilly night was filled with delicious smells, mingling with fast, joyful music on pipes and drums. The resistance was celebrating—some were dancing, some sitting, eating, drinking, and talking, perched wherever there was a spot to sit. They’d even gathered on top of a few of the freighters, dancing silhouetted against the fading light of the sunset. 

Poe looked very nice in his dress uniform. More respectable, that was the word, but as if it were just a layer on top of regular Poe, who was grinning at Finn now. It was anything but a respectable grin.

“I don’t know how,” Finn explained. 

He’d seen dancing on vids of course, but only as part of their education about immoral behavior, the dangers of wild expressiveness, the decay the Republic brought. To bring about peace, Hux said, these things had to be eradicated. Some of what they saw in the education vids had made a wistfulness stir in Finn, moments where he thought, _it might be enjoyable, more enjoyable than endless training exercises._ Or eating indistinct, bland food so they could eat to stay alive so they could do more training exercises, with little time to talk, to find out much about each other. Finn had stifled those thoughts quickly—he was a good soldier, excelled at weaponry, hand-to-hand fighting, physically strong. 

“Well, it’s time you learned. If you want to?” Poe held out his hand, lower lip caught between his teeth. He seemed strangely uncertain in that moment, for Poe.

“All right,” Finn said, and took Poe’s hand.

Poe let out a whoop and pulled him out from under the shadow of the X-Wing. 

“Here, like this,” Poe said, guiding Finn’s free hand so it rested at Poe’s waist. Poe put his other hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Just do what I’m doing.”

Finn had always been very quick to learn. Yet this was a lot harder somehow than the array of weaponry he’d mastered as a trooper. He followed Poe’s quick steps at first, then stumbled. Poe steadied him, pulling him closer, his grip tightening on Finn’s hand and shoulder, spots of heat with the cool air around him. Finn realized he was wearing Poe’s flight jacket.

Weapons were very much the same in the end, once you figured out how to activate them. Their weight, balance, whether it was a large canon or a small blaster, a staff or a even lightsaber, all of it was about mechanics, a simple physicality Finn appreciated.

This kind of physicality, with Poe’s face inches from his, his warm breath, hands guiding him as they turned, pipes and drums loud in Finn’s ears along with the rush of his own heartbeat, this was different. He had no frame of reference or comparison. 

Among the trees now, away from the celebration, with distant pops and bangs from fireworks, faint blue and red light against Poe’s dark hair, Finn took Poe’s face in his hands, leaned in and kissed him. 

Poe kissed him back, and this was better than anything. With a soft happy sigh, Poe moved his mouth from Finn’s mouth to his neck, kissing a line down from below his ear to the collar of his jacket. Finn felt as if his skin might be on fire as Poe reached for his belt, and while he’d never done this before, it flowed easily. He thrust into Poe’s hand, his mouth finding Poe’s again, kissing him hard and crying out against his mouth as he came.

* * *

He was alone on a small, grassy island in the middle of an ocean so blue the tint was closer to green, water so clear he could see all the way to the bottom, which was streaked with rocks in vivid colors. No sound but the waves on the thin strip of sand at the edge of the grass, nothing in sight but water, no shelter from the bright sun.

Pain laced its way up his back.

* * *

The island flickered away. He was inside, lying on a cot, a droid hovering in mid-air next to him. It moved closer and injected a needle into his arm.

A face appeared, round, lovely, and weathered, hair coiled up in a neat braid. “Rest, Finn. There’ll be plenty of work for you to do once your back is healed.” She touched his hand, so gently it stirred a memory of a home he barely remembered. Then she was stern again, drawing away.

* * *

In a blink, Finn found himself back on the island. He was in his trooper armor again, though he had no helmet.

This time he wasn’t alone.

“What—“ Finn stared at Han Solo. “What’re you doing here?”

“Beats me,” Han said, with a sheepish, lopsided shrug. “It’s your dream, kid.”

“But you’re—“

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for reminding me. Like I said, your dream.” Han glanced down at Finn’s armor. “You know, I had occasion to wear that stuff once. It was clumsy and stiff. I don’t know how they move in that gear. No wonder none of them could hit the side of a bantha.”

“It’s true,” Finn said. “I felt better after I got rid of it.”

“So why are you wearing it now?” Han kicked a shell into the water. “It’s your dream, remember? You put it on.”

“Oh.” Finn found another shell, bent down and picked it up, threw it into the water, following the trajectory of the other one. “I don’t know.”

Han sighed. “Must be a reason.”

“It’s…” Finn looked down at the small beach, at the shells the waves washed up towards their boots. “Shells. It’s…a shell. It’s…”

“Safe,” Han said. “Or the illusion of it. It’s a way to hide. I’ve been there too. Go back the one thing you know how to do…the unknown is just too much sometimes.”

“It’s who I was for a long time,” Finn said. “What if I don’t know how to be anything else?”

“Don’t know unless you try.”

Finn started peeling off the armor, piece by piece, dropping it on to the sand the way he had on Jakku.

“Oh for the…” Han stepped back and stared pointedly up at the sky, but he shot Finn a small lopsided grin.

The armor was scattered on the sand around Finn, waves sweeping it piece by piece out to sea. He was stripped down to the thin shirt and pants that kept his body temperature regulated while in the armor. 

Han shoved his hands in his pockets, squinting out at the water. “That wasn’t the end I ever imagined for myself,” he said quietly. “But maybe it wasn’t such a bad one. I love my son. I had to try.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Turning, Han put his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Keep fighting, kid. You’ve got what it takes. In here.” He tapped Finn’s chest with his other hand, and then he was gone, leaving Finn alone.

* * *

In a blink the bright sun and water were gone, along with the quiet crashing of the waves on the beach. In their place was a more muffled, distant background hum, footsteps, voices, beeps. 

Finn realized he was lying on his back under a cool white sheet, a comfortable pillow under his head. A round medical droid hovered a few feet away, making a clicking noise that sounded like concern.

Finn sat up without thinking, and expected a spear of pain down his back, but there was none.

“Easy there,” said a slim, tall, dark-haired woman. She pulled out a medical scanning stick and aimed it at his body. “Don’t rush. I’m Dr. Kalonia. How are you feeling, Finn?”

“Uh…better, I think.” Finn leaned back on his elbows, against the pillow. “My back doesn’t hurt any more.”

“Excellent news.” Dr. Kalonia nodded. “Your muscles will be weak, and the tissue still needs a bit more healing. I’ll be prescribing a physical therapy regimen for you. Be aware, your leg and back muscles may be weak for a little while.” She delivered all this information efficiently, but with a gentle, soft way in her voice that made Finn feel as if maybe things would be all right. “We have an excellent—“

“Good to see you’re feeling better, Finn.” General Organa entered the medical bay. She spoke to him like he was a soldier, yet not coldly, a combination Finn found oddly comforting—and then she _winked_ at him. “Vacation time is over. You should be up and about.” There was a warmth beneath General Organa’s commanding poise. In the First Order, no one seemed to care at all—they were only soldiers, nothing else. “Rey will be very pleased when she returns.”

“Returns?” Finn sat up, bare feet touching the concrete floor. “Where did Rey go?”

“To find Luke Skywalker,” General Organa said, calmly looking at the display of Finn’s medical chart.

“Oh.” Disappointment plunged down inside of him like a heavy pebble. 

“Concentrate on getting yourself back up to full health,” General Organa said. “That’s an order. We need you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Finn said.

* * *

Finn was seated on a crate in the hangar, on a rest break during a walk around the base that was going more slowly than Finn liked, when Poe found him. 

“You’re awake!” Poe called out, heedless of the maintenance crews around him. “Someone said you were awake…you’re…awake!” Poe’s hair was a little disheveled, like he’d just gotten out of his helmet and flight gear.

Finn wasn’t sure why Poe was in such a hurry as he strode over to him. Poe stopped suddenly, staring. He was wearing his flight jacket—the one Finn was sure had been destroyed.

“Hi, Poe,” Finn said, sliding down off the crate. It felt so _good_ to see him, Finn hardly knew how to describe it. He grinned, and realized he couldn’t remember too many times when he’d felt just…happy. 

“Hey. Hey, you…you look good. Actually no, you look _terrible_ , but really really good.” Poe grabbed Finn and pulled him into a hug.

“Thanks…I think?” Finn said, and didn’t want to let go, but he eventually did. 

Poe stepped back, and Finn wondered why he was still _staring_ like that.

He remembered a fragment of one of the dreams suddenly, about Poe, and heat rose into his face.

“Here.” Poe shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Finn. “Been keeping this warm for you. Knew you’d get up off your ass eventually and you’d need it again. I had it repaired.”

Finn stared at the jacket, then up at Poe’s face. He took the jacket and put it on.

Poe nodded. “Always looked better on you anyway.”

* * *

Finn started on the exercise and PT regimen the next day, although Dr. Kalonia clicked her tongue against her teeth, warning him to take it slow. It was a relief having something to do, a purpose, even though he wasn’t fit for duty right now. General Organa needed a soldier, so Finn would turn himself back into one as quickly as possible.

Sometimes Poe joined him for exercise sessions, or he invited Finn to work out with Red or Blue Squadron. The grueling hours spent in a cockpit made it necessary for X-Wing pilots to stay in good physical condition, Poe explained, and this was part of his routine anyway, so he might as well work out with Finn.

Jessika Pava currently held the record for the fastest sprint around the base, and would wait at the finish point with a timer, laughing and telling the rest of them to get on with it. Finn was always last, because if he pushed, the muscles in his legs would go weak and pain would twinge up his back. The last thing he wanted was to collapse in front of everyone.

“You okay, there, Finn?” Jessika asked him, handing him a canteen of water as he made it to the end of the course.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a naturally slow runner.”

He pretended not to see Poe’s side-eye.

In time, he’d get stronger. He just had to keep running. It’s what a good soldier did.

* * *

A few days later, Finn and Poe were sparring in a corner of the hangar, just routine hand-to-hand fighting stuff, with Finn showing Poe some First Order techniques, when the muscles in his back and legs finally gave out on him. 

One moment he was dancing back to avoid Poe’s kick, the next his knees buckled. He was halfway to the floor when Poe caught him, and eased him down.

“Damn it, Finn.” Poe was sweating and breathing heavily from the work-out, but he seemed shaken beyond what the physical activity could cause. Finn actually saw his pulse jumping against the damp skin at his neck.

“I’m okay. Just need a minute.”

Finn was barefoot in loose pants and a black t-shirt. He shivered, the sweat on his body going cold in the drafty hangar. Poe was wearing the same outfit, only with a white tank-top. Goosebumps were visible, risen on his arms. He didn’t let go of Finn.

“Really,” Finn spoke again. “I mean it’s just…sometimes my back, my leg muscles…the doc said I might have problems for a little while.”

“You should’ve said something, so I could keep a better eye on you.” Poe lessened his grip on Finn a little, but kept his hands on him, his palms warm. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Finn snapped. Then he let out a long slow breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…it’s not your fault.”

“The doc said to take it slow.” Poe moved a little closer to Finn on the hangar floor until their knees bumped together.

“I can’t, though. I have to keep going. I’m _useless_ like this, I’m a soldier, what good is a soldier who’s helpless, whose legs don’t always work right.”

Poe let go of Finn and lifted his hands to Finn’s face instead, cradling it in his palms. “You aren’t useless. Look at me, Finn, _look at me_. You could never be useless. Soldiers get hurt in battle sometimes and it takes time to recover.”

“Yeah, but I’m—“ Finn choked down the rest of the sentence, _a traitor_. 

“You’re a good man, Finn.” Poe’s mouth curved in a slow smile.

Finn’s stomach flipped, not in a bad way, as more of the dream about Poe he’d had while under sedation rushed back at him, in greater vivid detail than he actually wanted right at that moment. The distant pipes and drums, the popping and lights of fireworks, the warmth of Poe’s skin. 

He leaned in, thinking this was probably when Poe would pull away. After all, what did Finn know about how this worked, outside of what he’d been shown in vids, and those were supposed to be cautionary, how to avoid the things that distracted a soldier from their duty, not instructional.

But Poe didn’t pull away. Instead he gently stroked a thumb over the arc of Finn’s left cheek, and kissed him. Finn brought his hand up to close his fingers gently around Poe’s wrist, needing to touch him, feel his pulse beneath the skin as he kissed him back. It left Finn a little out of breath when the kiss stopped.

Poe lowered his hands and leaned his forehead against Finn’s. “Well. I wasn’t sure I’d get a chance to do that.”

“You were thinking about it?”

“Maybe.” Poe ducked his head, an unusually evasive motion for him. Then he laughed. “Maybe my jacket just made you look that good.” 

“Hey, I make everything look that good.”

“That you do,” Poe said softly, and the heat rose into Finn’s face again.

Bouncing back up to his feet, Poe reached down and grasped Finn’s hand, helping him up. “You doing all right now? Maybe we should stop for today.”

“No,” Finn said. “The muscle weaknesses are momentary. I want to finish. Because I want to, not because I have to. And I want to work with you.”

They squared off into fighting stance, and continued.


End file.
